Anna leaned forward, watching the people in the streets. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. "Without proper medical care, he would have been dead by morning. “Is everything okay?” His mother touched his 251 shoulder gently, standing up. For awhile he watched the revolving light on Copeley's. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder.
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